


All Empty Aching Blue

by motherofmercury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Death, Dissociation, Emotional Fallout, Gen, M/M, Quidditch Accident, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, character exploration, how the family react in the wake of harry's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofmercury/pseuds/motherofmercury
Summary: Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and Saviour of the Wizarding World is killed in an Auror raid on a group of Blood Purists, leaving his family to deal with the inevitable fallout.
Relationships: Albus Severus Potter & Lily Luna Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom & Ginny Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	All Empty Aching Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Infinite love to alpenglow for throwing this idea at me and letting me run with it <3
> 
> … I meant  
> skies all empty aching blue. I meant  
> years. I meant all of them with you.  
>  \- ‘patagonia’, kate clanchy

**28 th August 2032  
02:47**

_It was dark and almost silent; the only noise the quiet sobbing of a scared child. Harry glanced around at his team, signalling two of them to circle around the back to secure any and all exits. He held his wand out, ready in front of himself, sparing a quick thought for his family before he set aside Harry – father, husband, and godfather – and composed himself as Harry – Head Auror Potter – getting rid of all distractions._

_The Ministry had been keeping tabs on this Blood Purist group for two years now, but up until the kidnap of a seven year old girl two night ago, they hadn’t done enough to merit a raid. Finally, the Aurors had a valid reason to raid their stronghouse, and rescue the child while they were at it. Harry didn’t approve of the raid coming ahead of the safety of the girl, but he’d been overruled by the Minister, herself. It was out of his hands._

**04:58**

“Mrs Potter,” the Healer kindly took her arm and led her to a seat. “He’s dead.”

“But- no, that can’t be right!” Ginny said indignantly. “He’s- he’s Harry! He does stupid noble shit and gets away with barely a scratch–”

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked around the corner and took the seat next to Ginny, putting an arm around her shoulders. It was his Patronus that had come to the Potter house, calmly informing her that Harry had been injured in a raid and was in a critical condition at Saint Mungo’s. 

“Ginny,” Kingsley said in his comfortingly deep voice. “It was a stupid noble thing to do, but he saved the child being held hostage. He gave his life to save hers.”

“But,” Ginny began. She was cut off by her body betraying her and letting out a sob, all shaking shoulders and gasping breath. “He’s _Harry!_ ”

She was right, he was Harry. And, being Harry, had done the stupid noble thing and thrown himself in the way of a curse to protect the seven year old child the Blood Purists had been holding hostage. His team had thought he’d pull through if they could get him to the Dark Magic ward at Saint Mungo’s in time, but they had been wrong. The Boy Who Lived had no more defences against such a spell.

“We’ll put the body under a stasis spell,” the Healer said quietly to Kingsley. “No doubt the entire Wizarding World will demand the right to say goodbye to the Boy Who Lived.”

Kingsley nodded at her and held Ginny to his chest, wishing he could shelter the woman from the inevitable fallout of this raid. The world had always felt it had a right to keep one finger in the Potters’ pie, but Harry’s death would tumble the world straight into their pot, and they wouldn’t know a moment of peace until the world could somehow come to grips with the idea that their Saviour was finally dead. But there was nothing Kingsley could do but hold Ginny, and let her grieve while she could, waiting as they were, in the calm before the biggest storm of their lives.

**09:00**

The newspaper slipped from Albus’ nerveless fingers, fluttering to the floor in a black and white heap of savage words. How could it be true? It wasn’t; it couldn’t be. He promptly spun on the spot and Disapperated.

**10:23**

Lily was afraid to leave her flat. But she had run out of milk and couldn’t find any kind of spell that would let her conjure some and keep it. If she left the flat she’d have to come up with a really good disguise, or transfigure her face or something. Lily looked around for her wand. What she needed was a timeturner so she could go back a month and brew some Polyjuice. Although, if she had a timeturner, she’d go back and stop her idiot father from getting himself killed. She missed him terribly, but Merlin she was so mad at him for throwing her and the rest of the family into such a mess. Such a mess! Where was her wand? She felt like the room was receding from her like an outgoing tide and she was slowly being beached on the sand. Most of the time Lily didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore. She was so tired and she always felt so fragmented and unreal. Maybe she should just tell the paps that she didn’t exist. Then would they leave her alone?

**02:49**

_Head Auror Potter held up a hand and counted down on his fingers, kicking the door open and signalling the other two Aurors to follow him in. There was a sudden shout and an abrupt purple spell shot through the darkness. Potter yelled for his team to take cover, leading them further into the room to shelter behind whatever they could. He crouched down behind an overturned table as chaos erupted around them. Colourful spells shot in every direction, shouts echoing in the room, and piercing above all, the high-pitched scream of a young girl._

**10:45**

_Merlin_ , how was it already in the papers?! This was going to be how the kids found out. She should tell the children. She stumbled over to the fireplace and shoved her hand into the jar of Floo powder, throwing the green stuff into the fire and disappearing in a whirl of sickly green flame. She spun through the pipes in a sickening swirl and was violently spat out onto the emerald rug in front of the fireplace in Albus’ flat. But Ginny could tell from the empty quality to the hovering magic in the air that Albus wasn’t home. Neville. And Hannah. They could help her find the kids. And what she really needed right now was to see people who had known her before Harry. As much as she loved Luna, the woman was never very good with getting things done. And now she had to live _after_ Harry, and she wasn’t at all certain she knew how to do that. Harry was the one who was supposed to live forever. 

**_The Boy Who Lived: Living No More.  
_ ** _Article by a Returning Rita Skeeter._

**12:02**

Albus glared at the amber liquid in his crystal glass. It wasn’t right. He swirled the glinting liquid morosely before throwing it back. Whiskey. He didn’t even like whiskey. But still, he raised his hand and gestured at the bartender for another. Albus leaned on the sticky bar, the dingy air pressing against him with its permeating scents of stale beer and sweat. His bloodstream needed a lot more alcohol before he could even begin to forget what he’d read in the paper that morning. Albus needed to get completely off his tits drunk, find some nameless, faceless bloke to shag him senseless until he either fell asleep of started drinking again. It hardly mattered which.

Escape could come in many forms.

The bartender came over to refill his glass and Albus gave him barely a glance. He looked up for a moment, gaze snagging on the bartender’s arse as he moved away. Maybe Albus should be a bit nicer to him... he might be a likely candidate for said shag.

Albus looked up blearily and surveyed the occupants of the dingy club. Unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of viable options at midday. But a flash of blonde did catch his eye. If not the bartender, then maybe that pretty blonde in the corner? He had such delicate features, like someone had caressed them into his skin with a paintbrush holding too much water and not enough paint. It was vaguely familiar the way his features merged together... Albus shook his head in annoyance. Clearly, he’d been spending too much time with Hugo if he was thinking about pretty boys in terms of paintings. Merlin’s saggy tits did Albus need another drink.

He signalled the bartender once again, this time making sure to flash him his most charming smile – Albus was all about hedging his bets, there was no guarantee the blonde would even notice him – before going back to his swirling contemplation of the glinting liquid in his glass. Alcohol first, sex second. Albus thought it quite astonishing that the liquid in his glass could actually glint in the murky light of the club. 

It was some Muggle place Albus frequented to keep his face, and claims he had an alcohol problem (which in all probability, he did have; but he wasn’t going to let Skeeter get a whiff of that), out of the papers. Albus glanced back over his shoulder to see if the familiar watercolour blonde was still there. He was. And he was looking at Albus like he wanted to come over. Albus let his eyelids droop slightly, raking his eyes over the blonde man invitingly.

That seemed to settle something in the blonde’s mind because he threw back the last of his own drink and stood up, moving towards Albus where he sat at the bar.

**02:53**

_Head Auror Potter jumped up from behind his table for a second, firing a bright red_ Expelliarmus! _In the direction the worse curses were coming from, at the same time scanning the room for the child. He had to get her out of there or she would get killed. He made quick eye contact with one of his partners and signalled to her to light up the room and then get out. He knew she would also send for backup, and just as well. There appeared to be quite a few more members of this Blood Purist group than they had suspected._

 _His partner cast a_ Lumos Maxima _, sending light throughout the room for long enough that Harry could get a couple of the Blood Purists down. He clocked one man in a dark robe running across the room, wand pointed directly at the little girl. Head Auror Potter didn’t think, he threw himself in front of the man as the vibrant orange curse flew out of the end of the man’s wand. The girl behind him screamed as the curse hit him square in the chest._

**12:27**

The lights were too bright for Lily’s eyes and she couldn’t focus her mind. The camera flashes tried to blind her through her swirling, endless fog, but it was tattering her away at the edges, pulling on her attention and trying to hurl her out into its numbing stream. All she wanted was some milk. But someone was yelling at her and they were flashing and calling and she wanted to get out, needed to get out she couldn’t stay here or she’d be drowned into something horrid, she needed to get away get away get away get away _get away, Lily just take a step- take a step and just a little twist—_ with a harsh crack, she was gone.

**12:44**

“Day drinking?” The blonde slid into the seat next to Albus.

Through his haze Albus realised it was in fact Scorpius Malfoy. They had never exactly been close, but they’d shared a dorm through Hogwarts, and that sort of physical closeness always pounded a certain sense of camaraderie into people.

Albus raised his glass in a mocking toast. “The only appropriate way to mourn.”

Malfoy raised a pale eyebrow and gestured at the bartender for his own drink. “Who are we mourning?”

“Haven’t you read the paper yet? My father, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, is finally dead.” Albus paused to take a gulp of his burning whiskey. “And Skeeter knew before I did. Fucking journalists.”

Malfoy turned back to Albus in shock, sloshing a little of his gin and tonic over the side of his glass. “Are you serious?”

“No, that’s James, ha ha,” Albus laughed stupidly at his own joke, all the while hating the way he could never stamp out the bitter self-pity that squirmed selfishly through his intestines. Not even in the face of a conversation with _the_ Scorpius Malfoy. If Albus was honest, he’d always had a bit of a crush on the Malfoy heir. How could he not? The other boy had always been so elegant, so well dressed, and just the right amount of shy that occasionally gave way to an adorable cockiness when he knew he was right.

“A- Albus,” Malfoy tentatively spoke his first name. “Are you okay? Should you be out in public?”

“’S a Muggle bar i’n’t it? No Wizards, no public. ‘Sides, it’s the middle of the day.”

Malfoy delicately took a sip of his drink before placing a hand on Albus’ arm. “I’m a Wizard. There could be others.”

“I know _you’re_ a Wizard, Malfoy, I’m not that drunk.” Albus shook Malfoy’s hand off his arm and turned away as best he could on the narrow barstool. The blonde flinched away from Albus’ vicious use of his surname.

“That’s not what I meant. And please call me Scorpius.”

Albus wanted to apologise, but his stupid Potter pride wouldn’t let him. Stupid, _stupid,_ fucking sodding tosspot Potter pride. Bloody fucking prats, the Potters were, Albus thought. He looked back at Malfoy – Scorpius – and desperately hoped the other man would see in his eyes what he couldn’t bring himself to say just then.

Scorpius nodded and took a fortifying slug of his drink, clacking the glass back down onto the bar. “Come on, I think it’s time you headed home, anyway.” He stood up from his spot next to Albus but stayed next to him. Albus scowled at that. He clearly believed Albus was too drunk to even get himself off a sodding chair. Prick.

“I know how to stand up without your help, thanks.” Albus retorted, standing from the chair. He was ashamed that he wobbled a moment before centering himself enough to walk out of the bar without making a fool of himself or letting Scorpius know he was struggling.

Scorpius made a noise that might have been exasperation, but he stood back and let Albus lead the way out the door into the startling sunlight. Albus thought it should be raining. What was it called? Pathetic something? Pathetic was right. Scorpius would know.

He found his mouth moving before his brain had consciously made the decision to say anything at all. “Hey, what’s that Muggle thing about weather and emotions? Pathetic…?”

“Pathetic fallacy,” Scorpius said immediately. Of course. “Why?”

“Because it should be raining,” Albus glared at the bright sky. It was always rainy in England, why was today of all days any different?

Scorpius shrugged and came alongside Albus so they could walk side by side. “I like to think my mother has something to do with it when certain days are sunny.”

“Your mother? Isn’t she dead?” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. He felt almost sorry that his thoughtlessness made Scorpius wince yet again.

“Yes. She died in 2019. On August 28th.”

Albus frowned in consternation, “but that’s today.”

“Yes.” Scorpius said tightly.

Albus stopped walking in the middle of the path, letting the midday Muggle shoppers stream past him. He turned to Scorpius and scrutinised the blonde boy more closely. He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin was so pale Albus was sure he could see through it if he only looked a little closer. “Is that why you’re also day drinking?” He asked softly.

Scorpius gave a curt nod and turned away, continuing to walk down the road.

“Well, Scorpius,” Albus gave a dark chuckle, moving to catch up to the taller man. “Your mother and my father died on the same day.” He mocked raising a glass in a toast. “Happy death day to them!” he jeered at the sky, getting sharp looks and mutters from a passing couple.

Suddenly Scorpius stopped walking in the middle of crossing the road, causing Albus to bang into him, making them both stumble to the footpath on the other side. “Where are we going?”

Albus shrugged. “I was just following you.”

“You have a flat, right?” He waited for Albus’ nod before continuing. “Can we go there? I’m not ready to face my dad, today.”

Albus nodded again silently. “We’ll have to walk though, I’m-” He cringed away from admitting just how drunk he was, but he was certain Scorpius already knew, so what difference would it make? “I’m too drunk to Apparate.”

“I figured. Which way?”

“That way,” Albus pointed down the road and they set off together.

**13:08**

Lily stood by the bench in her kitchen, milk forgotten. Her feet were cold, but it seemed inconsequential in the face of the stream swallowing her whole like a fish down a waterfall. She knew Albus would tell her to put on another pair of socks, but her socks were so far away, and the little connection magic from her flat to Albus’ that he had set up for her was empty; almost desolate. He wasn’t home and she didn’t know where he’d gone. She curled her fingers into her palms, pressing little half-moon indentations into the skin. She needed Albus, but he wasn’t home. What should she do, what should she do?

**13:11**

James cried out in pain and shock as he plummeted into the ground, broom failing to pull up at his touch. But perhaps his touch wasn’t as strong as usual. James hated the way the shriek crawled its way up his throat and ripped out of his mouth with such violence it almost hurt more than all the bones he knew were broken. He blinked, lying on the ground, aware that his left limbs were twisted in ways no human limb should twist; it almost felt like he was bathing in the searing heat of the shocking pain. It was a relief to close his eyes and slip into the cool of black unconsciousness.

He blinked back into reality when his entire body was jolted. He opened his eyes with a pained groan and tried to lift an arm. The searing pain that shot up to his shoulder and through his collarbones made him stop trying. He panicked for a moment as he tried to figure out why everything hurt so much and where he was and why he was being bumped along in a very Muggle fashion instead of being levitated. Relief settled into his heart at the flash of fading blue in the corner of his eye. If Teddy were here, he’d take care of James. He closed his eyes again and sank back into the burning darkness.

James came to in a stark white room that smelled achingly familiar to him. He was in St. Mungo’s. Years of Quidditch had found him in hospital beds more times than he cared to remember. He always thought it odd that even with magic, there were plenty of injuries that couldn’t be healed – either outright, or simply not completely – and as much as he loved playing the game, he was beginning to think he should consider finding himself a less painful career. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the pain, it was more that he knew that every time he landed himself in St. Mungo’s his family, and especially Teddy, were forced into a frenzied state of anxiety that finally this was the injury that would end him. It was ridiculous. There surprisingly were not that many professional Quidditch players who had genuinely died in Quidditch related accidents. Or at least not _official_ Quidditch accidents. There were obviously an awful lot of backyard Quidditch games that went horribly wrong over the years. And the Potter-Weasleys had certainly had their own share. 

A trickle of blue snatched James’ attention away from his contemplation of his predicament. James could feel the soft smile stealing over his face as his eyes fell on Teddy. The older man was sprawled in the chair beside James’ bed, one leg over the armrest, head thrown back, and the slightest snore sneaking its way out of his mouth. James tried to sit up to see if that glisten on Teddy’s cheek was tears or drool, but the sharp pain in his shoulder forced him back down onto the bed. Nothing could wipe the dopey smile off James’ face, however. He and Teddy had been together for three years as of last month, and James had never loved someone more than he loved Teddy. 

James was so happy, and his parents had taken it so well – oh. The violent shock as his brain kicked into gear bordered on worse than the intense physical pain James had recently experienced. While his body might be on the mend (sped along through use of magic), his mind was a whole other story. Oh, Merlin. James knew it was true, but he could hardly bring himself to believe it. He’d received a Patronus from Uncle Neville during Quidditch practice, telling him he was with his mother and that his father hadn’t made it through the night. His coach had overheard, but James had disregarded her suggestion that he head home. Instead, he’d done one of the stupider things his Gryffindor arse had ever done. He’d thrown himself into the practice with a frenzied abandon and much less concentration than was required by such a rigorous energy. And naturally, he’d payed for his hubris.

“James?” Teddy’s sleepy voice questioned. 

James tore his eyes away from the ashen man. He looked so tired, and his blue hair was sliding perilously close to grey. He couldn’t bring himself to watch the love of his life sit up, rubbing his eyes and yawning adorably. It felt too normal; too happy. How could he let himself be so happy when his father was dead? 

“James, are you awake?” Teddy blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the harsh lighting in the ward. 

**13:23**

Albus wasn’t at all sure how they’d ended up on his couch like this. Scorpius was curled at one end and Albus was sprawled along the length with his head in Scorpius’ lap. The only possible explanation was that they were both still really rather drunk. And Albus had no idea if the other man had noticed, but he’d started playing with Albus’ hair. Three minutes and twenty-four seconds ago, to be exact. Not that Albus was counting. Naturally, he also wasn’t counting how many times Scorpius’ other hand had absently stroked his arm.

“What’s it like?” Albus asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the beautiful blonde.

Scorpius’ hand stilled its curling, ruffling motion momentarily, resuming as he replied, “what’s what like?” with far too much nonchalance.

“You know,” Albus said a little gruffer than he intended. He took a shaky breath to compose himself. “Having a dead parent. Living with media attention.”

“It’s-” Scorpius sighed. “It’s not great. But you live with it, and you just keep putting one foot in front of the other.” His fingers unconsciously tugged a little harder at Albus’ hair for a moment before relaxing back into their swirling rhythm. 

Albus grunted. That wasn’t the most helpful advice he’d ever received. “Scorpius?” Albus said quietly.

“Mmm?” His fingers kept stroking Albus’ hair.

Albus looked up into Scorpius’ face, the expression gazing down at him soft and curious. He didn’t stop to think, he just arched himself up and took Scorpius’ face in his hands, pressing their lips together gently. And then harder. And suddenly Scorpius was tugging his hair and Albus had his own hands around Scorpius’ waist. He pulled himself up and yanked the taller man, so he was straddling Albus’ lap. 

It was heated and rough and magical. It was escape. Albus had always known that escape was the highest form of magic. It was right up there with shooting stars, and true love, and the blinking synchrony of June fireflies in the evening. 

Escape could come in many forms, and this was one of the very purest. Scorpius felt like the sunshine after the storm clouds had parted and Albus knew that was a magic he should hold on to.

**13:50**

Teddy had curled himself carefully onto the bed next to James, trying his best not to jostle him. While the Healer had said James’ bones were in place and at least rudimentarily knitted back together, the body had to complete the healing process naturally and could only be accelerated so much without taking too large a toll on the injured party. So, James would likely be in a fair amount of pain for at least a few weeks.

Despite Teddy’s careful manoeuvring, James let out a quiet groan as the bed sank underneath their combined weight.

“Sorry.”

James grunted and settled himself as comfortably as his circumstances would allow. “It’s okay.”

“Do you want me to get you a painkilling potion?” Teddy asked, stroking a finger down James’ cheek.

“I’ve already been dosed up, but you could always kiss me better…?” James smiled impishly and Teddy let out a chuckle.

“You never change.”

“You wouldn’t want me to, anyway.”

Teddy raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he flicked James’ nose and then carefully pressed a kiss to his lips. “You could tidy up after yourself occasionally, for one, and it’d be great if you didn’t go throwing yourself of brooms all the time-”

“Oi, this is the first time I’ve fallen off a broom in seven years!” He was indignant.

The smile slid off Teddy’s face, his roots bleeding an anxious auburn, mirroring James’ own hair. “I know,” he said quietly.

James looked away, a tiny line puckering up between his brows. Teddy wanted to smooth it away with his finger. He didn’t want time or pain or death to touch this beautiful man, but it seemed in a single day all three had firmly taken their grip on his life.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Teddy asked. His own grief felt like it might well up out of him at any moment, but for James he would wrestle it down. Harry was James’ father, not Teddy’s, no matter how much he’d been like a father to Teddy. He would let James grieve first, in whatever way he needed to, and then he knew James would let him grieve. They worked well together, as a team and as a couple. 

James looked back at him, fear and pain in his eyes. “Not yet,” he whispered.

Teddy nodded. “Okay,” he whispered back, “but your mother wants us to join her and the rest of the family for dinner. The Healer said you can go when you’re ready.”

It was James’ turn to nod. “Just let me not face it for a few more minutes.”

Teddy hated the grief he could hear in James’ voice, but all he could do was wrap him up in his arms as tenderly as he could. They’d have dinner with the family, and then tomorrow would be a new day. 

Tomorrow was soon enough to face the music.

**16:19**

The peeler rattled in Ginny’s shaking hands, forcing her to clack it down onto the countertop. She braced her hands against the counter, closing her eyes and breathing in slowly. Harry had always been the one to do most of the cooking. In all honesty, Ginny knew she was a rubbish cook.

_“But Gin, they’re boiled potatoes!” Harry laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “I do not understand how you managed to ruin boiled potatoes. It’s not possible!”_

She smiled to herself, despite the tears prickling up behind her eyelids. She shook her head sharply, as if to shake out the memory, letting the sound of Neville’s gentle humming wash over her while they cooked. 

“I don’t know how I can thank you, Neville,” she turned to the tall man pottering around her kitchen. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, today.”

“Hey, you know you don’t need to thank me. It’s the least I could do!” He put down his wooden spoon and moved over to Ginny, pulling her into a comforting hug. “Besides, you were always there for me when things were rough. I’ve got your back.”

Ginny sniffed and clenched her shaking fists into his sweater. She allowed herself a moment to collect before pulling away and roughly wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She set a determined look on her face and once more picked up the peeler. She would make this dinner with Neville, he would go back to his own family, and then she could be strong for her kids. Falling apart was not an option until everyone else was okay.

Ginny inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders, facing down the waiting potatoes.

**17:03**

Albus left Scorpius asleep on the couch, scrawling a note to help himself to anything and let himself out. He also added that he was really glad they’d met and to Owl him. Albus wasn’t a huge fan of how sentimental the note sounded, but he was running late for family dinner. He nabbed a Sober Up potion from his bathroom cabinet and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. He’d decided he’d go to Lily’s first to check up on her.

Now that Albus had sobered up, he felt a tide of shame wrenching its way through his gut. He’d gone straight to the bar that morning without a single thought for Lily or James, and he knew Lily especially would have struggled today. 

He spun out onto the rug in front of Lily’s fireplace, coughing green smoke out of his lungs. “Lily?” He called, standing and brushing himself up.

There was no response, so he headed towards the bedroom.

“Lily?” he tried again.

Albus walked into the bedroom to find Lily sitting on the bed, staring at her shoes.

“Lils?” He said, moving slowly to sit on the bed beside her. “Do you want me to help?” he put his hands over hers, wrapping her cold fingers in the warmth of his.

Lily slowly turned her head to look up at him with her wide doe eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Albus let go of her hands and leaned down to help her with her shoes. “Alright, here we go. It isn’t so hard, is it?” 

“No,” Lily said in a small voice. She took his hand when he’d finished, and he helped her up off the bed. “Thank you, Albus.”

“Hey, you know I’m always here for you,” he rubbed his spare hand over his face momentarily. “I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. I saw the paper and I just-” he broke off and closed his eyes, breathing in sharply through his nose.

“Yeah,” Lily said quietly, sounding dazed. Her hand trembled in Albus’. “It almost doesn’t seem real.”

“Sometimes I wonder if anything is real, Lils.” He squeezed her hand and led her towards the Floo. “Anyway, we should head to Mum’s or we’ll be late. It’ll be good to see James and Teddy.”

“Yeah,” Lily whispered. “Yeah.”

**17:37**

James sat down at the table as his mother served up the potatoes. Uncle Nev had just left and Albus and Lily had just shown up together. James winced internally at just how long it had been since he’d had a proper conversation with Albus. He was beginning to realise there were an awful lot of things he wished he’d said to all of his family. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before looking back up and then glancing sideways at Teddy. The older man smiled at him reassuringly. They’d all be okay in the end, his eyes said. Just let it hurt now. 

He picked up his fork. One moment at a time was plenty.

**17:40**

Lily flinched at the screech of James’ cutlery across his plate. The sound shrieked into her brain and rattled through her memories, piercing through the swirling fog in the worst kind of way. She tried to take a breath, but it drew itself in all shaky and weak and Lily felt as if she might plummet slowly through the ocean, the air a salty thickness stifling her lungs. 

**17:44**

Albus glanced up at the spiralling tension he could feel in Lily’s magic, whirling around her sickeningly, but also somehow soaking into her like a slow sludge. He reached out his hand and laid it over her cold one, letting comfort and reassurance seep through his own magic and into hers. She needed it more than he did just now.

**18:06**

Ginny sat there and looked around at her children. She looked long and hard at their silent interactions, each glance and touch and look. How was she going to shelter them from the storm? Harry had been the rock they’d built their family on. Ginny had always thought herself far too quick-tempered to be a parent, and parenthood hadn’t done much to dispel that notion. But at least with Harry around to balance out her fire they’d done a semi-decent job of raising their kids. And they certainly weren’t kids anymore. Not even little Lily. They were all grown up. And maybe that’s what she’d never realised while Harry had been around. Her children were adults now, and maybe she would have to let them become their own people. She had to let them go. She had to let them learn how to look after themselves. 

They would shelter each other from the storm, now.

**03:01**

_Harry felt his lungs constrict, breathing becoming increasingly harder with every continuing second, not noticing his team take down the rest of the Blood Purists. The girl was sobbing somewhere near him but stars began to dance like gaping black holes in the edges of his vision, closing in as he struggled for breath, everything finally squeezing him into darkness. His thoughts pinpointed to one simple, yearning regret: he hadn’t told his kids where he’d hidden the invisibility cloak. Harry sighed out, eyes closing. Sinking into the darkness was easier than falling asleep._

**18:47**

Lily watched as Teddy’s hair darkened from cerulean to an aching azure that trembled turquoise at the roots. She looked at the bleak faces around her, breaking through her foggy, numbing mist.

“It feels like the sky,” she said quietly into the broken silence. “Just all empty aching blue.”


End file.
